Reprieve for the Lost
by waterlit
Summary: -AU- It's 1940, and war sweeps over the world. Kanda and Allen are separated - but for how long? Kanda/fem!Allen.


Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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**[Reprieve for the Lost]**

**Starring: Kanda and fem!Allen**

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i. of things that were

[1940]

_Kanda's house was gone, demolished, utterly destroyed till even its foundations were gone. In its stead there remained a gaping chasm, like the hole between the gaps of a babe's teeth; only, in this case, there was no sense of life, no sense that the house might put itself back together. Beyond the scarred fence lay only a curling smile of white mist, mocking her and her memories. _

_Above the chimney there was a red moon, grinning wide, with crimson blood falling rapidly to the ground like the footfalls of daunting fears. Its eye was wide, glassy, and reeked of death and decay. Empty men danced around her, and the night collapsed like a swollen deck of cards; her world shattered at her unshod feet. _

_There was a cry, like a screech at the turn of the tide, lolling through the air and scratching at her heart. _

_The dawn would be coloured with blood and the ghosts of things lost through hatred. _

[[]]

The day Kanda left, Allen woke with a shiver. The sounds of shelling lingered in the air, though she knew that the fighting was taking place in London, and not in this moor far from the capital.

The morning was cold, as if the tears of slain men and forgotten heroes were creeping across the land, hiding behind the bristling bushes. Allen drew the covers tighter around herself, willing herself to go back to sleep, but though her eyes closed, she could not doze off.

Her mind kept returning to some dreadful precipice – possibly, some remnant of her dream. She could not quite remember it; there was a dark pool, perhaps, and a haunting sickle moon dripping blood. Was it blood? She shivered again, and opened her eyes. She had to stop thinking about irrational things; maybe she was reading too many gothic novels.

Her eyes opened again. Really, the silence was wretched. It was alright before the rumours of the war dashed across the land. It was alright even when the rumours had solidified into something more terrifying – news of the war. But now, when men from the villages and even men from their little town were signing up left, right and centre to enlist, and half the town stood still in the wavering moonlight, half drenched in shadows that moved at the slightest gust, she could hardly bear it.

When the cock that paced up and down the shell-paved pathway next door at the Lees' house finally crowed, Allen picked herself up and darted to the washroom. It was time to remove the cobwebs of sleep from her face, and the itching nightmares from her hair, to emerge into the dawn like a butterfly out of a moist cocoon.

She would be seeing Kanda today.

[[]]

It was evening when Kanda arrived. The day had been a lazy one; the townsfolk wandered in and out of the only hotel in town. It was once a dazzling oasis, the one locomotor that was pulling the sleepy town's economy along even as farmers suffered in the face of reduced harvests and local gentry sold their rural estates for more manageable town and city manors.

The day was a mild one; winter was on its way and the red leaves fell from the tall trees, collecting together in mushy heaps below outspread branches. Trekking through muddy paths, Kanda saw the hotel come into view. Its red slates and white stone stood out against the dark, soft brown of the trees, memories of days long past still lingering in its curtained windows and ancient, softly crumbling arches. The eaves were covered with ivy and moss, giving it a quaint look.

He entered the Black Order by way of the panelled front door, up the sweeping steps, which being used little these days, was now open to the public at large. He had never liked the front door, though. It was large, black and entirely forbidding, and reminded him of the formality of goodbyes. Threading through the marble-floored hallways, he walked into the restaurant and made straight for Allen.

Nodding at her, he stood before the counter while she processed a bill.

"Just a minute," she mouthed, and went back to her duties.

When she was finally done, she smiled tentatively, her pink-drawn lips drawing together, and her eyes crinkling. "Do you want to sit and have dinner? Evening's always the busiest time of the day."

"I'll wait," he said, and settled into an unoccupied booth. Allen nodded and rang a bell to summon a waiter.

In response to the bell, a man decked out in a black suit rushed out the double doors of the kitchen beyond, and headed for Kanda.

"Hello, Yu!" the red-haired waiter greeted enthusiastically.

Kanda grunted in response, and the waiter did a double take. "Am I dreaming, or did I not hear you threatening me? I think my hearing could be going…"

"I want soba."

"Sure, sure. You're strange today. You're going to tell Allen, aren't you?"

"You think?"

"I think."

"Then get the damned food."

The waiter whistled, his two green eyes blinking rapidly, before he left to key in the order.

[[]]

The restaurant was almost empty by the time the outside was dark and the mist was curling snugly outside the little hotel. Allen sat down across Kanda and surveyed him thoughtfully as she sipped at her tea. It was Earl Grey, with lemon _and_ sugar _and_ milk, and it tasted heavenly, and therefore she looked with burning disdain at the green tea in Kanda's porcelain cup.

"Boy, that was one long day!" Lavi exclaimed and slid into the table beside Kanda's.

Lenalee followed suit, mixing herself a large glass of herbal tea. "Lavi, I'm so tired, even though there's really nothing much to do. It's all the suspense, I expect."

"Do you expect a plane to fly past and hit us?" Kanda asked, suddenly tensed.

"No. Not really. It's only over London, right? We're far from London…" Lenalee mused. But her eyes retained a wary look.

Kanda didn't reply to that, choosing instead to bring his cup to his lips. With a frustrated sigh, he brought it down again and almost threw the cup onto the table. He brought his eyes to Allen's.

"I'm leaving."

"You're going home?"

"I'm… not going home. I'm going back."

"Back where?"

"To fight."

"You don't mean – Kanda – you don't mean – "

"Yes, I'm returning to Japan."

"Why?" Allen cried, her voice almost breaking. Kanda shivered to hear the strain in her soft voice.

"I need to go back. It's my duty."

"What duty?" Allen shrieked, her tea cold and forgotten. "You haven't gone back in many years!"

"Tiedoll doesn't want me to leave," Kanda admitted. "He wants me to stay."

"Then stay!" Allen begged.

"I can't. I want to, but I can't."

"Why not? You're just leaving Allen here?" Lenalee asked, incredulous, with the slightest trace of tears in her large eyes.

"I have an obligation!" Kanda shouted, his pupils shrinking as his rage bubbled. "No matter how much I hate to leave, I have a duty to fight for my motherland!"

"There's no way to stop you?" Allen asked. Her grey eyes were calm, but her hands, hidden under the tablecloth, were shaking and picking at her skirt.

"No way."

"What he says," Lavi added.

"You knew about it all along!" Lenalee accused Lavi wrathfully. "And you didn't tell us!"

"Even if I told you, you wouldn't be able to change his mind!"

"Shut up, the lot of you," Kanda growled. "I want to talk to Moyashi. Alone."

Lavi and Lenalee got up and exited the room, and Kanda turned back to Allen. Slowly, hesitatingly, he reached across the table and clasped her tiny hands into his larger ones. Looking down, he sighed.

"I just want you to know… that I'll be coming back. I won't remain in Japan once the war is over."

"…"

"Don't cry, Moyashi."

Allen stiffened at his use of her nickname, which he had imported from his homeland. The tears gathering in her eyes threatened to spill over, and she wrenched her eyes close to prevent him from seeing them. "You're going… I can't believe it!"

"I'll be back, you know." Kanda moved over to Allen's side of the table, and touched her head lightly. He closed his eyes and leaned in to hug her, ignoring the roughness of the box-like skirt and jacket she was wearing.

"Don't die," Allen said in an almost-sob.

"I won't." Kanda released Allen and looked at her, his right hand drying her tears. Then, as if remembering something, he reached into his pocket and brought out some slips of paper. "I brought some clothing rations along for you. I won't need them anymore, and I thought I'd give them to you. You need more warm clothes for the winter; I don't want you to freeze. You can share them with Lenalee if you want."

"Kanda…"

"I'll miss you. I'm leaving today."

"Now?"

"Yes. Goodbye, Moyashi." Kanda smiled at her once, before walking toward the door of the restaurant.

Lavi and Lenalee emerged from the kitchen, where they had been watching, with all the other staff behind them.

"Goodbye, Kanda," Komui called out, and Lenalee waved her hands. Lavi winked at Kanda. "We'll miss you, too! Come back when England's won the war!"

"I will." Kanda turned in the doorway, so that all they could see of him was his hair. "Look after Moyashi for me."

[[]]

[1941]

"Look, Lenalee, the Japanese are killing our men like flies and the Germans are bombing the shit out of us, and you tell me to stay here, _hide here_, like a coward?"

"Lavi, calm down! I just don't want you to be hurt!"

"Didn't you read the letter they sent? Daisya died! He died, alright? Some freaking enemy man got him and they tied him upside down to a tree in damned Malaya and here we are, drinking tea and eating scones and butter!" Lavi brought his hands down to the table with a crash.

Lenalee looked at him, her eyes filling up with tears. Allen stood to the side, her thin hands around Lenalee's shaking shoulders.

"Lenalee, I know you don't want me to go. But I have to! Men are dying everywhere; I can't just sit here and serve tea knowing that I could be useful out there!"

Lenalee turned from Lavi, hiding her face with her hands. Allen gestured for Lavi to leave the room. "I'll take care of her for a while; you need to go take a rest too."

"You know, Lenalee," Allen said as soon as Lavi disappeared, "I know just how you feel."

"I'm sorry for behaving like this, Allen. I know you're also in pain…" Lenalee sobbed.

Allen rubbed the small of Lenalee's back. "Lavi'd be happier if he could fight on the battlefield, Lenalee. You could let him go happily, with a smile on your face, or you could let him go with your angry words ringing in his ears."

"I'll… I'll let him go. But I don't want to lose him…"

Allen hugged Lenalee, their tears mingling.

Lavi left the next week, with a kiss on his cheek and sweet words whispered into his ear. He beamed, and the train swallowed him up. Lenalee waved bravely, tears staining her cheeks, even as her wishes and dreams whisked themselves away after the train, leaving behind her nightmares woven into her hair, and her fears etched into her face.

The summer wind tore Lenalee's love away. Allen watched, lingering silently at the black-and-white crossroads, and knew the pain again.

[[]]

[1944]

The evening Cross actually came over, Allen knew that something drastic was about to happen. Cross never visited the hotel unless necessary, choosing instead to conduct his business elsewhere, in areas of ill repute. Recently, he had taken up with a beautiful woman, Anita, and she cared for Allen, and Cross might perhaps have been influenced by his new love.

It was spring, and the trees were just beginning to grow out their leaves, shedding the sterility of winter with quick shakes. Cross banged the door open and stamped his dirty boots on the rug and looked at Allen, before throwing himself carelessly (but with striking grace) into a chair. He demanded that Allen bring him a good old bottle of wine. Then he got down to business.

"They're saying things about you down in the lower villages." Cross wagged his finger at Allen. "You know, right?"

"What things?" Allen asked, paling visibly, her red tattoo all the more visible as it stretched taut against her paler-than-pale skin.

"Whore who gave herself to a damned Japanese, that's what." Cross stared at her intensely. "Anita's worried."

"Why should you be? I mean, nothing's happened – the Japanese haven't made a move on Europe yet. It should be the Germans we're worried about…"

"You fool! The Japanese have conquered most of Asia, and captured our men. How do you think the villagers feel about it, especially those of them whose sons left this land to go down to defend the colonies?"

"They –"

"You are damned right. They are now 'they', and they no longer consider you as part of them. Even as they hate the Germans they hate the Japanese too. Damned xenophobes, they are. And you being associated with that Kanda… you're a target, girl. They'll burn you alive at the stake, as a modern day heretic, mark my words."

"They wouldn't –"

"Oh yes, they would!" Cross glared at Allen across his glass.

Allen's stomach felt wrong, as if she had eaten one too many pies, and the colour of the wine in Cross's glass did not help one bit. It was red, slippery red, the colour of the blood that fled the vessels of men who lay on the battlefield, and one of those men with empty eyes had hair that flew in the wind, a smirk lying crooked against his cold face. And then she thought of herself being paraded through the streets, with villagers and townsfolk hurling burning sticks at her and eggs smashing against her forehead, and _she didn't want to be persecuted_.

"Anita and I can't hide you in our house forever, you know, idiot."

"Thank you, Master, but I can look after myself." Allen fixed her thoughts and put on her cheerful smile.

"Fool, if you try to defend yourself you'll end up as a charred mess of bones! The best plan… is for you to marry Link."

"Link! Howard Link!" Allen looked aghast. "I can't, I can't. I don't love him –"

"Oh yes, I know you love Kanda, but he's gone. You have to accept that fact."

"He isn't dead!" Allen yelled.

"He might be. He hasn't written to you ever in what, three years? If he isn't dead then he's probably lost all interest in you. How do you know he'll return? If you don't want to die in the near future, you'll better take up with Link."

"No –"

"You will, for the sake of living. You have to. Do you want Mana to be disappointed in you?" Cross growled.

"No-"

"What did he tell you before he died? He told you to keep walking. And if marrying Link is the way to keep walking, then, why, just do it!"

"But Kanda-"

"Kanda," Cross shouted, "is not coming back! And even if he were to come back, you… could always divorce Link."

Allen huddled herself by the hearth when Cross left, drawing her knees to her chest. Inside her raged a storm, and she wept till the morning came.

[[]]

-the damned are chained, and how they weep -

[[]]

ii. of things that are

The wedding was a solemn one. The wars were still ongoing, each existing like a firework at some different part of the globe, and materials were still scarce. They held it in the church off the town, and invited only close friends. Cross was there to give Allen away, and Leverrier, the town's mayor, was there, to give his nephew, Link, his blessings.

Allen stood behind a curtain at the back of the little church, waiting for the ceremony to begin. She sighed, and adjusted her veil. Her gown was made of white organza, with a scalloped neckline, and it once belonged to Anita and it didn't really fit in places. The curls on her head felt unreal; she felt like a turkey dressed up to become a peacock, and she shivered inside.

There was little to look forward to from now on; she would become Mrs Link, that was all. The one thing that Allen drew comfort from was that they would not be staying with Leverrier at his grand house. She didn't like Leverrier.

Link was standing at the podium, before the officiating priest. He wasn't that bad a man, really, just a little pompous and stiff. He had been honourably discharged from the army after a stray bullet damaged his left leg; now he walked with a slight limp. He braided his hair, which Allen thought affected, but that didn't really matter now, did it?

Cross walked her down the aisle, and she walked gracefully, as Lenalee had taught her to do. She faced Link, and felt that something was wrong. This was not the wedding she'd dreamed of. All along, she had hoped to marry someone she loved, someone who could hold not just her respect but also her feelings, and the man in front of her she could only ever respect. Link would love her (he had stalked her for several months now) but she could never love him back in that manner, and that thought turned her cold, and her ankles hurt from standing.

Above her, the well-worked lattices of the old church creaked, and she missed the man (he of the dark hair and the dark eyes, he of the frowns and the empty smiles and the never-ending smirks), wilting deep inside.

"I shall join you in holy matrimony," the priest said, and he carried out his office.

Allen craned her neck, hoping for a last minute run down the aisle, hoping for a glimpse of a flowing river down a man's sturdy back. But the church doors remained shut, and no man (with glittering coal eyes and strong arms) came thundering against the ceremony.

Therefore, they were wed, and walked out of the church as Mr and Mrs Link.

Just like that. Spring was meant to be a happy, merry time, but Allen felt a stone settle into the pit of her stomach, heralding the fiery loss of happiness. She was well and truly trapped now, in a vicious cycle of unhappiness.

[[]]

[1946]

Lavi came back that autumn, stepping off the train lightly. Allen smiled and waved appropriately (a staid matron, hugging her babe to her chest) as Lenalee flew into Lavi's embrace. Komui alternated between grinning and frowning.

As soon as the preliminary greetings were done, Lavi walked over to Allen. He was thinner than before, his cheekbones protruding. He was much changed – he had lost some of that jauntiness he once possessed. His right eye had also been damaged, how she didn't know, because he didn't tell in the letters he sent back home. _War is terrifying_, she thought, and stared at the eye patch on his face in twisted wonder.

He walked slowly, as if the weight of the world lay upon his shoulders, and suddenly, Allen knew.

"I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be, Lavi. Nothing's your fault."

"If I hadn't left… maybe I could have helped you. Then you… would not have been forced into…"

"No, Lavi. The life I'm leading now isn't the one that I've always dreamed of, but Link's a good man."

"Allen, I saw Yu."

Allen turned pale, clutching convulsively at her child. Lenalee relaxed Allen's grip on the child, and gave Lavi a reproachful glare.

Lavi ignored her glare. "We were fighting in Malaya. I saw him, recognised him straight off. I think he recognised me too, because he sort of smiled. He was lying in this thicket, bloody and poorly bandaged. I gave him some of the water from my canteen, but I had to leave with my contingent. I'm not sure what became of him afterward, but… you must be prepared. He might never return."

Allen nodded, and turned away to hide the tears threatening to spill over her cheeks.

[[]]

-of things left unsaid, and how they fester at the edge of perception-

[[]]

iii. of things that will be

[1958]

Allen cried when Link's coffin was lowered into the ground. Beside her, Mana grasped her elbows and bowed his own head in grief at the loss of his stern but caring father. The winds were howling around them, and Lenalee reached over to pull the lapels of Allen's coat tighter around her thin body.

"You need to eat more, Allen," Lenalee remonstrated.

Allen merely nodded, looking at the red leaves as they spun through the air. _How fitting_, she thought, _a dance of blood and tears; the trees are weeping for the loss of a good man_.

Turning slowly, she left the graveyard. Link, while never her lover, had been a competent husband. He had provided for her and their child, and had never once been unkind. In his own pompous and reserved manner he had loved them with all his heart, that much she knew. It scared her, somewhat, that the man she had grown used to seeing at the head of the table should have left so suddenly, plunging her into a world she no longer knew.

But she kept the smile on, because there was no reason to worry those who loved her.

Lavi looked at Allen's retreating figure and the stretched smile she had on before, and wished again that Kanda was with them.

[[]]

[1965]

It was winter again, and Allen made ready to pay a visit to the ailing Leverrier. She did it out of kindness: the old man had seen too many years, and death was now lounging at his feet. No one visited him much; he was always by himself in that dreadful old manor, hidden deep in dust and the memory of lost things.

At the door, she called goodbye to Mana and told her housekeeper, Miranda, to mind the house while she was gone. Then she buttoned up her black suede pumps and made off into the wintry landscape. Allen made her way carefully around melted, muddled puddles, inching her way out of her yard.

Then she stopped. A few places down, at the Bookmans' house, a man nodded curtly to the housekeeper, before walking away down the lane. She recognized that man. He was him - he of the dark hair and the dark eyes, he of the frowns and the empty smiles and the never-ending smirks, he of the glittering coal eyes and strong arms.

She recognised his profile, and watched mesmerized as the man strode down the lane. Without thinking, she began walking, tracing his route, her own heels clicking smartly against the pavement. She walked without focusing on the route; her eyes were glazed over and her heart felt too large for her chest, like a heavy glass bird attempting flight.

Soon, she realised, she was standing The Black Order, one of the most popular coffeehouses in town. The one-level coffeehouse was built like a ranch house, with the exception of the embroidered curtains at the windows. Pausing for just the slightest instant, she swept through the sliding glass doors and made her way in.

Once inside, she glanced around the neat, cosy interior. There he was, standing before the hearth over which an excellent reproduction of The Human Condition hung, ceramic cup in his hand.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Link!" Lou Fa chimed. She was the new cashier, and she still referred to Allen by her married name even though Allen had told her to drop the prefixes and just call her Allen.

Kanda's attention was drawn to the door, and his features rearranged themselves into a mask of visible shock. Allen looked remarkably different from when he left. Then, she was slight and somewhat pretty, but now that she was older, she looked elegant. Time and fate had not been kind to her; sorrows had hollowed out her cheeks, but she was still slight. She had never been as pretty as Lenalee, but she looked more sophisticated by far.

With her chin bob and cloche hat, and that ridiculously trendy beige coat she was wearing, Allen was noticeably different from the younger her. But Kanda still knew her, and after a second, the ceramic cup dropped to the floor where it broke into smithereens. The customers in the coffeehouse turned and looked, bemused by the fact that one of the most respected women in the town – the widow of the honourable Mr Link – and an Asian foreigner were locking eyes.

After what seemed like centuries, Allen walked over to the hearth and faced Kanda. Someone, presumably drunk, clapped and someone jeered. Meanwhile, Lenalee, her hair piled into a pompadour, dashed over, made Rikei sweep the floor, and ushered her friends into a back room where Lavi sat.

"Yu!" Lavi cried, rising with his hands stretched out. "So you're still living, after all!"

"Che. You think?"

"I'm so glad to see you, Kanda!" Lenalee shooked his hands warmly.

Kanda nodded at her, before turning to Allen. "I told you I would come back."

"I think you did say that."

"So, Mrs Link, how's life?"

"Don't call her Mrs Link, Kanda." Lenalee muttered.

"He's dead," Allen said.

"I know."

"I came back because… I wanted to see you. To see how you all were doing."

"You didn't come back right after the war." Allen's eyes were watery.

"I didn't. But I'm back now…"

Kanda finally clasped Allen's hands, and they smiled at each other.

Happiness was hard to find, and they were already in the throes of middle age. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could learn to recover those lost years, and regain the passion and zest of their younger days.

Perhaps.

[[]]

-this is how it ends: not with a whimper, but with a bang-

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A/N: I wanted to do a fic dealing with war after I read The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters. This is my longest oneshot so far, and it was also influenced by The Hollow Men (TS Eliot). I had to do some research on architecture and fashion in the 1940s and so on, because I wanted to make the setting more realistic.

I would like to add that I meant no offence whatsoever to countries involved in WW2, nor do I mean any disrespect to those who died in the war. I'm not sure if the British felt any animosity against the Japanese at that time, but I remember reading somewhere that in the US, the Japanese were actually ostracized for a certain period after the attack on Pearl Harbour. Please pardon any historical inaccuracies – after all, this is fiction heh.

Thanks for reading, and review if you want to (:


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